One Of The Enemy
by Murasaki Iiro
Summary: "One Of The Enemy" is currently under a major renovation process. Read at your own risk until this warning is removed.
1. One of The Enemy:Reflections

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Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball. I wish I did, but unfortunately ,someone else got to it first. Damn.  
  
A note of caution from the author:   
  
This is not to be considered ordinary fanfiction , and is to be read with a careful eye. The simple-minded should avoid reading any further, as should those who do not enjoy a complex plot now and then. Keep in mind that this tale was not originally intended to be read by a large audience, and that at times it may become very twisted and slightly confounding.  
  
  
----Murasaki  
  
  
......One of the Enemy......  
A n Epic tale by Murasaki Iiro  
Chapter One:Reflections  
  
The sky seems so empty during the daylight hours. The winter sun, so fierce and bright, fills the horizon with its blinding white rays. The glare scatters and mirrors off the freshly fallen snow, painting the finishing strokes onto the veil of illusion.  
  
_But when the sun sinks below the jagged outline of the mountains, and the moon is high above the earth..............  
  
_The illusion is gone.........and the heavens remove their luminous mask.  
  
_Vast, infinite, and filled with stars........and worlds..........and people........  
_  
One can only dream of the fascinating and complex lives that begin and end in the great beyond...........  
  
_Each of us is so small, so insignificant ,in the scheme of the universe..........  
_  
How many people are living and dying, fighting and struggling, sacrificing and surviving, basking in the glory of victory, and tallying what has been lost?.....   
  
_They are as numerous as the stars themselves.........._  
_  
_As time wears on, the wheel of destiny is remains a constant force. Good fortune turns sour over time, and tragedy can open doors to new opportunities.   
  
_Stars die and are reborn from their own ashes time and time again.........   
  
_What things befall us during our lifetime are not in our control.   
  
_But how we choose to face those things is the true judge of our strength and character......._  
  
A young woman stood with her face pressed to the window, watching the stars pass by, tiny white spots painted on the canvas of the universe . There was something wonderful and fascinating about the abyss of space and stars that lay before her. If only the glass would shatter and she could float into the emptiness, discard all of her memories, and drift, painless, for eternity.   
  
In truth, she was barely more than a child, but she had already lived two lives; the first, filled with fortune and opportunity, the second full of injustice and disaster. Her eighteen years felt like a thousand.... She was already tired of living.........there was no promise left for her in the future. All of the luck and goodness in store had been wasted on her early years, a time that she could barely recall now........  
  
_I can remember a girl...............She was as lovely as the full moon............She had bright eyes and a ringing laugh.............Her beauty blossomed like a desert flower as she grew into a pillar of pride and confidence..........  
_  
She was still beautiful, for all of her suffering, but she had changed much in three long years. Her flawless skin, milk white and soft, had become rough in the boiling sun. Her long ,slender fingers, once delicate and smooth, were cracked and dry, her fingernails caked with dirt. Her limbs, which had been so thin and graceful, were sinewy and strong from days of heavy work, fit for a grown man. Her eyes ,which had once the luster of polished citrine, were cloudy and blank. Her hair, the color of the pale violet blossoms that open after the rain, was wound into a crown of tight braids. She longed for it to be soft and silken, so that she could set it free from its plaited confinement.  
  
_But she and I are not the same........_  
  
The young woman knew she had evolved into a strange and different person, one without resolve or tolerance. The pretty things she had once taken delight in were of no use to her. Jewelry and fine objects were of little value to anyone now. The copper bangles that had danced on her wrists to a lively jingling song were melted into ore, and traded for far less than they were once worth.   
  
_I am a fugitive in my own land, and I flee from my own shadow. .............._  
  
  
She could not be a martyr for her own people. Others had died in more terrible ways she could bear to think of. She knew she could be something less noble.........a sacrifice for the honor of her family. What better way to meet her end than at the hands of the man who had killed her father and grandfather. And glorious her end would be, like that of an epic heroine!  
  
_Goku.......his name is Goku.........a demon's name.........  
_  
A last,splendid instant would fill the space of three barren years with a golden blaze! And so, he would once again be victorious...........and she would have achieved an end worthy of her stature.   
  
_But why does my heart sink when I think of such things?...........  
  
Perhaps it is my own selfishness that tells me to turn back.............  
  
_It seemed then as if she was fighting herself. Her proud half, demanding that she die; her undisciplined side, beseeching her to live........  
  
_I tremble like grass at the slightest breeze......... _  
  
She refused to show her own growing cowardice. Cousins younger than she were willing to follow her to a premature end, and she could not make an example of her courage if she was found lacking in it. _  
_  
_It is at times such as this that I wonder if my father was afraid when he knew that he could not turn back...............  
  
Did his hands shake as he faced destiny? Did he know what would become of us?_  
  
As she weighed the future, a quiet voice whispered in the language of souls........  
  
She felt its message surge through the angry blood in her veins.  
  
_You are not alone ..........  
_  
Her mother stood sullenly behind her, eyes downcast.   
  
The woman and her daughter were alike in both figure and face ; reed-thin, with lofty cheekbones and nimble legs .  
  
But it seemed that something vast stood between them............something that they were both unable to describe.........  
  
The woman wove her sable hair through pale fingers slowly, as she stared at the floor. The tears in her eyes had dried like the river delta in a decade-long drought. There was not enough left to form a solitary droplet to quench her fears. Her eyes burned with the poison of woe.  
  
_I have cried so many tears for my family ,that it seems I have none left to cry for myself............  
_  
_For I am a woman close to death; I am she who was too scared so stay behind; I am she who is too brave to let her daughter perish alone...........  
  
_In her appearance she was timid, her cowardice hidden behind a pretty countenance. As her daughter stood tall and proud, her own panic humbled her .She was at the mercy of fate. Why was she chosen to suffer such strife? An instant of security and happiness......... and in the flicker of an eyelash, all the entropy of the universe came crashing down upon her.   
  
_I have nothing left to lose.If I had, I would give it gladly to save my daughter. I would betray anyone ......... simply to save her from this end!   
  
_Veritably, she had lost far more than she could afford, in her thirty-six years of living. Thirty-six years of little but catastrophe seemed like an age.   
_  
Piece by piece, they chisel away at my sanity!  
  
_Her stubborn daughter was all that remained of her father's legacy. Now it had seemed that she had lost the perseverance that was his prized attribute.  
  
_What price must I pay to smile again?  
_  
Years ago she had lost her young son to assassins. If only she had known that it was a prelude to the greater tragedy that would befall them. Oh how foolish it seemed to weep for him now! .........  
_  
At any given hour I can see a woman weeping in the street, a confused child clinging to her leg, wondering where his sisters and brothers have gone.........  
  
In the night, I hear a man shout ,because he has found five bloated bodies washed up on the riverbank..............  
  
And there are the living statues,who stare blankly at the passers by, struck silent by the horrors they have seen............   
  
_Her world was littered with the debris of turmoil. If only her husband had returned alive. Then she could have tolerated what was to come.........  
  
_......He could transform tears into laughter with a simple smile...........even the most boorish, stubborn men had only kind words for him............   
  
......When the only life he knew began to crumble, he never complained. He pretended that he was not afraid. Nobody could fathom the magnitude of his anger and his shame ,lying dormant from the past...........  
  
........And so he fled when his people needed him the most , chasing a legend that only a boy would believe..........  
  
........ Perhaps I am foolish........  
  
........But I can hear his voice still..........  
  
........telling me ......  
  
........that I will live to see tomorrow....  
  
  
_A third woman, veiled by shadow, had secluded herself from the other s. Unlike her granddaughter, she did not question the honor in her decision. Unlike her daughter-in law, she was not riddled with uncertainty. She saw her path clearly before her.   
  
Her eyes were slate gray, lined with black khol, enhancing their taunting fierceness. Within the inky pupils blazed the sparks of a well-stoked rage , the hot tendrils flaming from her leaden heart. The apples of her white cheeks were flushed with burning anguish.Wild burgundy waves, tangled from lack of maintenance, sprouted haphazardly from her scalp. Once her value had been summed by her beauty, her pure heart, her uncommon brilliance......  
  
_But the white sun has blinded us to beauty...........   
  
Drought shrivels the spirit...........  
  
Pain dulls the senses..............  
_  
The few who had known her well enough to realize her cleverness and enthusiasm ,were ashes in the wind now, and those who had survived were too numbed by panic to remember.  
  
As others had forgotten her, she had forgotten herself. She had allowed her mind become an hollow cavity where bitterness grew rampant like fungus. Anger, like smoke, filled her lungs and poisoned her blood.   
_  
How I wish that I had gone mad long ago, when others would have.....So that in my head, I would see the dead walk among the living ,and truly believe that it was real........So that I could speak to no one, and hear my son answer back........So that I would not know my own name, and that I had once been the wife of a king!  
_  
Eroded by grief, her spirit had sunken , like a stone in water. The emptiness possessed the very core of her being, leaving her with a sole and macabre comfort.  
  
_Revenge.  
  
_She knew she was cruel to desire such things. It would only transform her into what she so fervently despised.   
  
It would transform her into an animal, a madwoman who thrived on suffering.  
_  
It will make me like the force that calls herself the Empress, the being that feeds on my hatred. It will make me like she who follows me, while I am awake and while I sleep. It will make me like she who ordered the death of my young grandson eight long years ago. It will make me like she who murdered those loyal to my husband , then hunted their wives, their children , their brothers and their friends.   
  
_.....But the woman had been twisted fatally by her own thoughts.   
  
She did not care if she died. She did not care if her her son's wife or his beloved only daughter perished with her.  
  
She did not care that her living son, her elder son, the image of his father ,would surely follow her out of duty . He had fought Goku once, to appease his own hunger for retribution, and barely escaped with his life. He would try, as any loyal son would, to prevent the inevitable. And like all those who spoke of revenge, he would fail.   
  
_Every vein in my body pulses to the rhythm of my vengeance!   
  
I cannot escape it........  
  
I will give my life so that one of my foes will taste the rage that poisons me.......  
  
.......And so that the other will not have the pleasure of wiping my blood from her hands!  
  
_It is unfair that some must live their lives beaten by hardships and defeat ,while others are rich ,free and have only tasted the sweetness of victory.   
  
It is unfair that children of one world can play games of war with sticks and stones, while the children of another must cover their ears to muffle the sounds of battle.  
  
It is unfair that one man can grow strong and healthy, eating more than his share at every meal, while another man must chew on dry grass, dreaming of a loaf of bread.   
  
_Some receive more than they deserve, and others must compensate by deserving, yet receiving nothing.   
  
This is the way of all things.   
  
_In the heart of the Japanese countryside, a timeworn house sat atop a snowy hill. The aged, red roof tiles had cracked, and more than a century of rains had washed away their rich color. The farmlands that bordered the property had produced nothing but grass and weeds since the days of the samurai, and the forest had slowly begun to take back its domain.   
  
Still, for all of its faults, the house was friendly and at ease in its lonely surroundings. Electric lights omitted a lively glow from the front rooms, and the sound of tipsy laughter burst from an open window.   
  
For that night, all of the hostility among the revelers had been forgotten, their furious jealousies hidden. They had promised amnesty to one another, until sunrise. A prince painfully forced a smile at a commoner, and a loner spoke cautiously with a man half his size.  
  
In the attic room, a boy nestled deep into a nest of pillows and blankets. Since eight o'clock, he had been banned from the festivities and condemned to a darkened bedroom. It had been three hours since, but he was still wide awake, ear pressed against the wall vent, listening for the secrets grown people tell.  
  
He was the most fortunate of spies, for the secrets he heard were of the best quality, ripe for sneering, gasping, laughing, and crying.  
_  
".......walked in on him, stark naked.........."  
  
"......She didn't really know him very well at all. Didn't stop her ......."  
  
"......could have died right then when I saw......."  
  
"......was bitten by a rabid wolf. Had to cart him off to the doctor. Too late for that poor bastard, though........"  
_  
For the first time in more than two years, he felt at ease. He would have been glad if life had continued in that same, predictable fashion. There was something _ordinary _about eavesdropping on one's elders. It was something that every curious child did.  
  
Normalcy, even if it was short-lived, brought him an unpretentious joy.  
_  
But there is nothing ordinary about me, is there?  
  
Ordinary boys have not seen the shadow of doom, or tasted their own blood as it rose from their lungs.  
  
Ordinary boys can choose their own paths, unburdened by the sins of an entire universe.  
  
Ordinary boys must learn not to always think of themselves. I have made sacrifices and taken risks, since I was old enough to understand what they were.  
  
Instead, I was chosen to live an extraordinary life. And like my father, I am forever paying the price for a destiny I do not want,and power I do not need.  
  
_As his eyes grew heavy with impending slumber, he uttered his last thought aloud.  
_  
"If my life were in my own hands, I would choose to be anything other than a hero. What use is there to be loved by others, if you cannot love yourself?"  
  
  
  
The Author's Last Word: _Buckle your seatbelts, readers. It's going to be a bumpy night.   
_  
- Murasaki  
  
  
  
  
_


	2. One of The Enemy:An Unexpected Request

Chap2

A story By Murasaki Iiro   
.............. One Of The Enemy...............  
Chapter Two : An Unexpected Decision   
  
  
Her hair was red. Not an _ordinary_ red, but the color of the sunset...........The same hue as the brilliant slash of crimson that is created where the violet of the night sky and the orange of the sun's glow seep into one another. It fell in soft waves on the sand as she lay there, struggling to hold on a little longer. There was no way to save her now, she knew that well enough. The ball of energy pushed itself further into her side. The pain was unfathomable, but she concentrated hard, focusing her brain waves, searching in desperation for her sister- in- law......  
  
A young man kneeled at her side, tears running down his face. It was an indication of weakness to cry, but he could not hold back the feeling of emptiness and pain as he watched his mother die. His silvery white hair was caked with dirt, and a stream of blood trickled from his wounded shoulder, down the lavender-colored skin on his sturdy arm.   
  
"I'm sorry mother......." he sobbed "I tried, I really did try...........I wasn't strong enough........It's all my fault....."  
  
The dying woman looked up at her oldest son, with soft, turquoise blue eyes.  
  
"Khaeri....... I t's not your fault......Don't you ever blame yourself for this.......I saw you out there......you were wonderful........as good as your father used to be....."  
  
"Mother.......you can't die!.........I'm going to defeat Goku........You'll be there, watching........"  
  
"No, Khaeri.......You will do no such thing ........... Remember what I have always said.......Life ,_ any life_ is priceless......... Those who take it from others pay dearly..........Look at your father,Khaeri...the quest for power and revenge will get you nowhere........"  
  
"Mother......please........_don't die now._........"  
  
"I trust you to make the right choice...........your brothers and sisters will follow you, they always have..........I need you to listen, Khaeri, there are many things I must tell you, and so little time........."  
  
"_Anything_......just say it, and it is done....." he choked back another strangled sob.  
  
"You have known me longer than any of your siblings. Khaeri, when your youngest sister, Jiyaisa, is old enough to understand this..........tell her everything you can remember about me........It may cause you pain, but she deserves to know who her mother was......I never did.........."  
  
"I will,....I can promise you that."  
  
"And take care of your father, please...........This is all going to be so hard for him, left with all nine of you.........especially Jiyaisa......... your sisters are a handful......I'm sure you know that by now."  
  
Khaeri smiled through his tears. His sisters were quite difficult at times. They never agreed on any one thing. They were all so diverse in their personalities, nobody would ever guess that they were related. Ayanxi, the oldest girl,at ninteen, was her father's daughter, headstrong, firey ,and when push came to shove, an excellent warrior. What she lacked in raw intellect, she made up for with strength and precision. Among his sisters, she was considered the most beautiful, but paled in comparison to her younger first cousin, Riaquni. This fact caused her only downfall.She was eternally envious, but it was the truth. Her classic beauty, defined by grey-black eyes, silvery hair and a nd pure white complexion, was no even match for the sultry-looking Riaquni, who had managed to inherit her mother's big, violet eyes and soft ,pink lips.  
  
Second oldest of the girls, only eighteen,and by far, the leader, was Quira. She had both her mother's deep red hair and zest for life. Quira was outgoing and funny, but she had a tendency to act......well, in a rather lascivious manner at times. Grandmother didn'tlet her get away with her flirtatious antics, and made sure that she acted like a lady in front of her superiors.She was the least favored among the older generation, but her siblings admired her to no end. Powerful, she was not, but in her own subtle way, her planning skills and practicality had saved the entire family numerous times. Khaeri depended on her for advice and guidance, and she was more of a close friend than a younger sister.  
  
Next, was Nasaida, born less than a year after Quira, who was the artist in the family. She had her father's coloring, lavender-tinted skin,like his own, and the same glossy, white hair. She was a maven of the martial arts, and was not afraid to use it as a weapon. At the palace, Nasaida was taken under the wing of Radditz, who happened to be an artist, alongside his job as a bodyguard and left hand man to her uncle. He passed on his skills to his disciple, and the two became very close.She was always sketching something, and her hands seemed to be permanently smudged with charcoal, evidence of her attempts to impress him. When Radditz dissapeared under mysterious circumstances, she cried for days, refusing to eat or sleep. Since then, she was a little quieter than usual, and she didn't smile half as much. Khaeri had suspected that his father had already been planning to marry her off to her mentor anyway, because it was obvious that they were soulmates. He was never sure whether she grieved for the tragic loss of a dear friend, or for the untimely demise of her first love.   
  
Mayeni, fifteen, was amost, if not as beautiful as Ayanxi, but her presence went nearly unnoticed among her radiant sisters. She did her best to hide her beauty, and was extremely modest about her looks. She was taller than most though, and her hair was an odd shade of gold, not quite red, and not quite blonde either.Like Nasaida, she was a creative mastermind, but not with paints or charcoal. Her passion was music, and she was usually found picking out melodies on her flute, some ancient, some modern, and some she had invented herself. Mayeni was soft-spoken, but she wasn't unhappy.She kept mostly to herself, avoiding Ayanxi whenever possible. She was forever doomed to be in the shadow of Ayanxi's power and military brilliance, but she never showed any hostility towards her, only kept her distance.  
  
Falyni, age fourteen, was difficult to describe. She was nearly identical to Mayeni in appearance, but the two were as different as day and night. To her, life was nothing but a huge ,cosmic joke, the object of which, was her. Falyni had been cheated of much of her childhood, since the civil wars had come to a devastating peak when she was only six. Instead of spending time with a mentor, or training with her brothers and sisters, she learned her fighting skills first hand. She found even the most depressing events to be humorous satires, implying that fate was bent on torturing her until she gave in.......... Something she claimed that she would never do. Of course, Khaeri knew that she took these things harder than most. Late at night,he heard her sobbing in the front room,in secret, a wretched sound which continued into the early morning hours. He was sure that once her mother's death had penetrated through her false shield, Falyni would be inconsolable. It was his job to help her come to terms with reality , and it would not be an easy one.  
  
Last, and youngest of his sisters was Jiyaisa, who was barely eleven months old. From his past experiences with all seven other siblings, Jiyaisa was a welcome change. She was good-tempered, and did not mind at all when her mother, father, five sisters, and three brothers, doted over her. Actually, she seemed to enjoy it, and Khaeri always brought a smile to her face.   
  
However, his father, who after all, was an exiled prince , was completely clueless about children, especially small ones. He was one who was content to leave parenting duties to his wife. On occasion , he was good for a laugh or a sparring partner, but Khaeri did not know him as well as he might have wished.While he was growing up, Koola had been so involved in off icial duties, that he barely made time for his oldest son. Lately he had been making efforts to redeem himself, but Khaeri always felt that he was a burden to his father .Hopefully, he would not repeat the same mistake with Jiyaisa.  
  
Yes, his mother was right, Khaeri decided. Those girls were quite a handful, or rather, a great big _armful_ .  
  
"Do not fear, mother........." he replied solemnly " Someday, all of this will blow over, and we will have peace once more...........If I can win against Goku......." The tears came pouring down again. He could feel her power level shrinking away. She shut her eyes tightly, unaware of his affirmation. Her mind was elsewhwere, far away from the sound of her son's voice.  
  
" Khaeri", she whispered with her last breath "Forget everything your grandfather taught you...........Join Son Goku and the others.......swallow your pride and become _oneof the enemy_ ..........we can learn from one another........... It is the only way to stay alive.........Find Riaquni......_.tell her_........"  
  
She drifted away, her voice fading. _She was gone_.  
  
He repeated his mother's last words over and over in his head. The idea was ludicrous, he could say that much, yet it made sense.   
  
He felt his father's presence behind him. He looked up. In his father's face, he could see a mirror image of himself. The same eyes, the same nose, the same squared chin, the same tears...........  
For the first time in a long while, his father gave him a nod of approval. Both were at a loss for words.  
  
Khaeri cleared his mind of his surroundings. He envisioned his beautiful cousin standing in front of him. He focused a clear beam of thought that carried his words across five galaxies.  
  
Ten billion miles away, Riaquni let out a gasp that cut through the eerie silence like a knife. Her aunt was dead. Why.........How? She panicked. Everything had been going according to plans.......And now? Another family member was gone. First her younger brother, then her father, and now her aunt.........Where did it end?How could she tell her mother?........Lady Jinna had been her best friend, and although they were only related by marraige, they were as close as two sisters could be. She fell to her knees, sinking waist-deep into the snow. Her mother and grandmother looked on in surprise, as she waited for Khaeri to continue.............. 


	3. One of the Enemy:Riaquni Reconsiders

Chap3

A story by Murasaki Iiro  
..........One of The Enemy...........  
Chapter Three: Riaquni Reconsiders  
  
  
Riaquni's heart stopped at a sickening halt. The only sound she could hear was Khaeri's voice, loud, clear, and unfaltering.The sternness of his tone bothered her intensely. He was truly serious about this. Had he been driven completely mad by grief?  
  
Riaquni.......It was the last thing she asked of me..........please........I need you to cooperate here.......we're in a much worse position than ever before.......  
  
What's the point............we're all going to die either way.......What makes you think they would accept us as part of their group?We tried to kill them, Khaeri. Do you really think that they would forget that?I still have nightmares about my father's death......I can't imagine fighting on the same side of the Seiyans who have my family's blood on their hands...........  
  
I know, Riaquni, It's hard for me too. Think about it though ....... They joined up with Prince Vegita..........and he was one of our strongest.....  
  
What does that _traitor_ have to do with us?.........Seiyans are Seiyans.They're all the same. It's a fact of nature. They hate us, and we hate them. Why should it change now?..... Simply because you just decided that it should?  
  
It wasn't me who said this.........It was my mother. Her theory might work, Riaquni. We have no allies left. Even our own people have exiled us........So many of our friends died horrible deaths.........  
  
Like I said before, there _is_ no point! They will kill us the first chance they get. Why should they hear us out? I refuse to die groveling to some Seiyan murderer, begging for mercy.   
  
This doesn't sound like you,Riaquni....Why are you saying this..........You can't let grandmother influence you like that. She can't get over what happened.She's _bitter, _Riaquni. She's just trying to get revenge. Where will this expedition take us anyway? ..............Straight to hell, most likely..... Not everything has to end this way.   
  
Fate is inevitable, Khaeri. You of all people should know that by now. Look at what life has done to you................Do you not see it?  
  
Fate is only what you let it become. .........My mother loved you as if you were one of her own daughters.......she trusted you to support me in this effort............Even if you won't listen to me, do it for her sake....Do it for my mother...............  
  
It was true. Jinna was like a second mother to her. Through the darkest of hours, she was always there . She recalled a time eight years before, the day she lost her younger brother.  
  
The memory echoed coldly from the inner sanctum of her thoughts. Everything was a sea of blackness, without the slightest glimpse of hope. He was dead, and so it seemed ,was everything else she found happiness in. Shouting rang through the corridors, unavoidable, following her from room to room......................  
  
"So this is what they want, Zarbon?...........They killed an eight year-old boy..........Why didn't they face_ me _instead?........It's not right......It should have been me instead of Xan............Zarbon.......he was only a child........Why did they attack?.......They knew he couldn't have defended himself if he tried........... ....Xan.......Xan........."   
  
  
Her father's voice faded and cracked, only to be replaced by more screams of anguish.  
  
"I want them dead! Let me at them! .......Those heartless demons.........Where do they get off murdering my grandson?.......... Who are they?.......Tell me, Koola, who are they!?!...."  
  
"They disappeared, Father........gone,without a trace...........please, Father, Don't be irrational now, during a time like this........Death is difficult for all of us..........."  
  
"Irrational!?!.......You dare call _me_ irrational?.......Koola, they just burnt your brother's eight-year old son to a bloody crisp!..........."  
  
"Father, please..........stop ! .....It's not a way to deal with loss....... I know.....It's killing me too............he barely even had a chance to live at all..............."  
  
Trying to block out the words, she curled herself up into a tight ball . She strained to close out the screaming, but it seemed only to become louder still. The whole palace was in tears, servant ,general, and prisoner alike......there was no escape.........All she wanted was to cry in silence,shut away from the frenzied world around her.  
  
_Please............go away............leave me be................._  
  
Just as she was about to sink into a black hole of despair, A tear-streaked, but smiling face emerged from the darkness. Jinna had been watching the whole time, looking for the right moment to interfere.   
  
Ten-year old girls often pretended to be grown women, but they were still children, vulnerable and defenseless to the cruelties of reality. Jinna knew how lost and desolate Riaquni must have felt, and there was very little she could do to comfort her, let alone help her forget the events of that day.Sometimes being the one left living was a billion times more painful than to be the one who had died. All she could offer her right then was a shoulder to cry on.............  
  
Riaquni threw her arms around Jinna's neck, sobbing uncontrollably. To the skinny girl in her embrace, it was the end of innocent childhood, unscarred by the turmoils of war and political unrest. For such a young person to live through a tragedy like this one, that struck so close to her heart, was too high a price to pay for the great warrior she would become.  
  
Yet, for Riaquni, her aunt's silent guidance brought strength, and it gave her the will to survive the next day, the next week, and the years to follow...................  
  
Riaquni.......are you there?.........Riaquni?............._Answer me_.........  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
Fine. I'll do it.  
  
So, you'll help me?..............  
  
Not you, your mother...........I owe her one.........  
  
Why the sudden change of heart?..............  
  
Oh, no............It's nothing really.........I was just thinking back......Your mother was an awesome lady......She didn't deserve a death like that................I'm really going to miss her.............  
  
Khaeri pondered his cousin's words, searching for the meaning behind them.Yes, his mother was a truly awesome lady. He would treasure every moment with her for as long as he lived.   
  
So am I, Riaquni, ...........So am I..........  
  
The connection between them faded as Khaeri began to lose concentration. He had a lot to accomplish by the next morning, and the tasks that lay before him were not simple ones. Riaquni was only one obstacle of many. Khaeri still had to deal with his brothers, Sasdan and Zautrai, who were both more powerful than himself, although younger. The success of this operation balanced heavily on their shoulders, despite his mother's insistence of his seniority.........  
  
Riaquni lifted herself out of the snow, brushing off the frozen powder from her body suit and armor. The ends of her silky hair had frozen to stiff points and her hands were beginning to be overtaken by a n uncomfortable numbness. The temperature had dropped steeply as the moon came to its peak in the midnight sky. She hesitated to turn and face her mother and grandmother. They would not take this unprecedented news very well ...........  
  
Miles from where Riaquni stood, the five million residents of North City were each celebrating the holiday season in their own way. Some were at home with their families and friends, sitting down to a hearty five-course meal. Young, single salarymen partied mindlessly with scantily clad women in dimly-lighted clubs , an experience most would not remember on Christmas morning. Tourists from cities far away filled the luxury hotels, looking for an elegant, cheaper alternative to the classic vacation getaway.  
  
To say the very least, business was booming.   
  
On the corner of Shimura Street and 101st avenue, a smallish, nondescript sushi restaurant was open for business. A neatly painted, red and black lacquer sign displayed the _Kanji_ for  
Shimura Street Sushi. Paper and wood sliding doors and low, four legged tables gave it a traditional Japanese touch. The menu was framed and secured to the doorpost, advertising descent, but not cheap, prices. There was a varying array of dishes to be had: crispy_ tempura , _cold_ fuka, mekajiki _shreds wrapped in seaweed and avocado............Delicious...........  
  
That night, the night before_ Kurisumasu _ , was especially busy,more so than usual . Behind a glass- shielded counter, a sixteen-year old boy hummed to himself as he doused the next batch of chicken _teriyaki _with soy sauce . He was dressed in a black kimono jacket with a thin pinstripe pattern and relaxed-fit khaki pants.The boy had already removed his black worker-style boots and traded them in for the more appropriate _geta_ clogs_._ A red headband kept wisps of wild lavender hair from his face. The _kanji _imprinted on it in India ink script read _Fubuki Kiniro_ , or Golden Blizzard , no doubt, his name.   
  
The heat from the hibachi turned his alabaster-pale face a flushed pink. He yawned halfheartedly , his oddly-slanted ,wine-colored eyes beginning to fade away into weariness.............  
  
Fubuki- san! Lazy boy! You can sleep later! ..........Watch the Teriyaki, will you?......I don't want this place going up in flames on Christmas.................._baka............are you listening to me?!? _  
  
Mr. Kanbokuda, the owner of Shimura Street Sushi, gave his youngest chef a sharp rap on the back of the head. Despite his repeated spells of incompetence, he was possibly the best assistant chef he had ever employed. It was too bad that Kiniro was still in school, and only worked at night. If he would agree to forego college for a full apprenticeship, perhaps he could inherit the business someday. He certainly did have a way with food..................  
  
Kiniro suddenly forgot about his current desire for a nap, and paused to think of a respectful retaliation to Mr. Kanbokuda's wake-up call.   
  
.A thousand apologies ,Kanbokuda-_sensei............  
  
_That's all right boy, no need to grovel.........just pay a tad more attention to what you're doing tonight, okay? .....  
  
Kiniro bowed submissively to the master sushi chef and returned to the issue of the teriyaki.  
  
This is gonna be a long night........... he complained under his breath, hoping that nobody would hear.  
  
  
Author's note - Ha! You didn't expect that last bit did you?So.......the question remains........Who is Fubuki   
Kiniro, and why, in the name of Kami, is he working in a North City sushi restaurant? What in the world is he doing in this plot line anyway? Until next time..........  
Review please!  
----Murasaki Iiro  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. One of the Enemy:The Lesser of Two Evils

Chap4

A story by Murasaki Iiro  
......One of the Enemy........  
Chapter Four:The Lesser of Two Evils  
  
  
"....Who will follow me ?............Sasdan?...........Zautrai?..........."  
  
Khaeri's parched lips moved in silent prayer. One word............ One word from each of them, and the whole plan could go up in flames.   
  
Neither of them looked him straight in the eyes, concealing their verdicts until they allowed their words to slide from their tongues. The question was not one of who to love, but who to hate more, the Empress or the Seiyans. Who was the lesser of the two evils that had plagued his family for as long as he could remember?   
  
The damage had already been done, and alone, their chances against the executioners were threateningly slim. The choice, the only choice that could save them now, was a betrayal of the values each and every great warrior held dear............values that he had so readily sacrificed at the request of his mother. It was his deepest hope that they would allow forgiveness to override the hatred and prejudice that surged through their veins and poisoned their hearts.   
  
Sasdan was engulfed in thought, and avoided his older brother's inquiring glare as he muttered ancient mantras under his breath. Sasdan was a child of the old ways, constantly meditating, reaching towards levels of strength and purity Khaeri could only imagine.   
  
Wisps of sandy, reddish hair fluttered across his Sasdan's brow as the desert winds blew a fine sprinkling of sand onto the hazy shadows blurred by the sun. He deliberated silently, frozen in a lotus position. He could not answer Khaeri's question too rashly, or he might find himself in an even more dire situation...........  
  
_When death stands outside your door,it is not wise to open it...............  
_  
Zautrai was also debating his response. At thirteen, he had experienced more horrific things than grown men five times his age. He had been forced to kill others in order buy time.......just enough to survive another day. He had seen his father's officials, his teachers and heroes, murdered one by one. Zarbon....Nappa........Radditz.............If that were not enough to appease the fates that had condemned him so, he lost both his uncle and grandfather to the Seiyans on the same day..................  
  
However vile the Seiyans seemed then, the Empress was an even crueler menace now. By the time she struck, a large portion of the family had _already_ been murdered. Zautrai lived in mortal fear of her, not only for her crimes directly against himself, but for her genocidal actions against _his people_.   
  
In the same year that she had seized control of the throne, she had reduced the population of the planet from a teeming eighteen billion to a dwindling seven billion. In order for her to stay in control, eleven billion innocent, defenseless people had to_ die_..........The first, his cousin Xan, the latest, his mother.........It was all the same to them..........  
_  
_ _It would be such a relief to put and end to all of this........run away from it all...........If only I had the courage to tell him so...........  
  
_ Seconds floated slowly by like hours. Khaeri twitched nervously, in awe of himself. What sort of heinous thing had he agreed to? One hunted man could never change the natural order of things. His mind wandered around in a maze of fear and suspicion. Was this just another excuse, the last ditch effort of a dying woman, to give her children an honorable death? Could his grandmother have been right about there truly being no future in store for him?  
  
He banished such thoughts as quickly as he had given them substance.   
  
_No. My noble mother would never resort to such hypocrisy.........may I suffer a thousand deaths for ever doubting her last words............  
  
_ Sasdan's blank expression did not offer any solace. Khaeri could not read his thoughts or even detect the slightest hint of a smile. He was locked in his own world, far away from the searing heat of midday and the eerie silence that hung in the air.  
  
The stillness that overcame the boiling landscape was numbing. The air was dry and hot, every breath a gritty mouthful of sand. Even Khaeri's unsinkable sisters could not find the will or energy to speak. What was racing through their minds then, Khaeri would never know. Death seemed to have them under its hypnotic spell too..............  
  
Without warning, Sasdan cleared his throat, and everyone snapped to attention. With a quick nod towards his father, he announced his decision.   
  
" When one meditates, he reaches a deeper understanding of his true self. When I shut my eyes, I could hear every aspect of my sanity crying out to me................. It tells me that you are a _traitor_, brother...... It tells me that_ my own mother_ deceives me with her dying breath.................."  
  
Khaeri's heart sunk like a stone.   
  
_No. It can't be.............After our mother died to save us............._  
  
"But _my heart_ has a voice too. It tells me that I must go with you and father. We are brothers, and have always shared the same fate......... and will do so until the very end. Mother always told me to follow my heart..........and so I shall............above all else ............ "  
  
For the first time in a long, long while, Khaeri's face cracked into a smile.  
  
Emboldened by his older brother's verdict, Zautrai found the courage he so sorely needed.  
  
" I think that we all need to change our values.............our society is built upon a foundation of revenge..........Its a dog -eat- dog world............We have only just seen the damage _one_ madwoman can do........Its time to drop the grudges, and find sanctuary among those who have defeated us.........We may not be able to save our race from destroying itself, but we_ can_ survive........I know it......fate will always save those who save themselves.........I cannot say that I hold no contempt for Son Goku, but I will try to understand him, if that is what my mother has asked of me..........."  
  
Zautrai felt a hand on his shoulder........Ayanxi.........  
  
"Well said, little brother............I must say, I am behind you.....as are we all........"  
  
She was answered by a chorus of approving nods.  
  
_So long, mother..........may your journey to heaven be swift....................  
  
_Millions of miles away, a chubby middle-aged man, namely, restaurant owner Kanbokuda Shoyu, was taking a tea break. That Fubuki kid had been running things so smoothly today that there was no apparent need for worry. Whatever miracle had brought that boy to his restaurant that past January, he was sincerely grateful for it now...........He could retire early, knowing that Shimura Street Sushi would be in good hands. Kiniro had such incredible talent.............It would be a shame to waste it.  
  
Across the room, Kiniro was thinking likewise. He wanted to impress Kanbokuda-san .....It was an ample opportunity to prove himself, especially with the overflow of customers tonight.   
  
_Psssst......._the uncooked_ yakizana _hissed as he placed it over the old fashioned _hibachi_. As the pink fish browned slowly, Kiniro thought about his future............. a master chef with his own restaurant.....maybe even overseas......someplace classy ......like Paris.......or New Orleans............  
  
The delicious charcoal-infused aroma told him that the fish was ready. He took it off the grill and continued working. He sighed. Big dreams weren't for little people.......especially a self-dependent orphan like himself........He would probably _never_ get out of this lousy city...........  
  
Kiniro felt that his parents, wherever they were............_whoever_ they were........would be highly disappointed in him. He was almost sure of it...........  
  
_Oh Xan........you've fought so hard, been alone for so long...............how could I ever be anything but proud? If only I knew what had become of you.............  
  
_Murasaki's Two Cents: So, Muri-Chan is not as predictable as you might think, Is she? I'll bet twenty bucks you didn't see that last sentence coming. So......wondering what happens to Riaquni back on earth? Is everyone(Goku Included) too drunk to even realize that she's there? How is the Ex-queen going to take this?Well.......Muri-chan isn't a fan fiction machine. She'll tell you when she's good and ready. In other words, give her a week or two. She likes to write QUALITY epics............so don't rush her........_  
  
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	5. One Of the Enemy:Forgiveness

Chap5

Disclaimer: I can't get sued can I?..........._.The characters of Dragonball do not belong to me_. If they did, I would be filthy rich, and would probably be too busy driving around in a Ferrari to care about Fanfiction.net at all. As for all of my characters........_feel free to use them_ ! I looooove publicity! ( That includes Riaquni, Khaeri, Dania , Attikai............and for Kami's sake, I won't list them all........) Enjoy!^_^  
  
..........One Of The Enemy ...........  
A Story by Murasaki Iiro  
Chapter Five: Forgiveness  
  
  
  
Two pairs of wide open eyes stared at Riaquni in complete and utter disbelief. The first set, her mother's, were black-violet , brimmed with tears. The second set, belonging to her grandmother, were icy cobalt blue, flecked with grey, their gaze sharp and unfeeling.  
  
This lack of emotion was somewhat terrifying to her. One was taught quite strictly that they were to avoid excessive shows of anger, fear ,or remorse. But would a few tears be too much to ask for a beloved daughter-in law? Or had death become such an ubiquitous occurrence, that it no longer caused her grandmother any pain?One could always blame the Seiyans, the Empress ,or even fate itself............... but blame could never return her family , no matter how long Riaquni let it eat away at her. Jinna, with her death, had made that much clear.   
  
Now it was up to them to make a decision, as she herself had done. Trade your honor for a life renewed, or give your life for eternal honor. For a family as proud as her own, it was an obvious choice. .....honor over life, always and forever. But discarding the last wishes of a such a noble woman would be a crime against heaven............ surely her grandmother valued tradition and respect more than she did her own personal grudges........or did she?  
  
Riaquni began to contemplate her cousin's words. Would her grandmother intentionally lead them to their deaths to satisfy her own hunger for revenge? Proud as the queen always had been, Riaquni still found it hard to swallow. Yet, standing there, on a strange, icy planet, on the far edges of an obsolete galaxy, she began to have her doubts.   
  
_It would be so simple, so easy, for her to end it all............in the middle of a bloody battle that she would lose purposefully. She would lose so that only I was left to fight , and fall, the same way my father did.....and we would all be together again.......... for eternity..............just the way she would want it......  
  
_ Riaquni was unafraid of death; it would always seek you out sooner or later. But she had no desire to tempt it.........she had done nothing, in eighteen years, that was worth recognition, and she wanted a chance, a chance to partake in something great.  
  
When she had opened her eyes that fateful morning, she wanted nothing more than to simply disintegrate, vanish and never see another sunrise.............for each sunrise brought another death, another reason to mourn. Now she _wanted_ to see the next sunrise, and a million after that............Riaquni had realized that the dawn did not bring solely death........It supplied a constant and everlasting symbol of survival and perseverance.   
  
The sun always lifted its head over the horizon, no matter how mortal madmen tried to smother its light. As the sun lived, so would she...............and no one was going to extinguish her.............not yet.....  
_  
_She watched expectantly as her grandmother's expression turned from one of shock to one of intense fury.   
  
And what would _your fathe_r say to this, Riaquni.......... Do you think he would grovel before a Seiyan! You are a _princess_ ............ Your ancestors would be ashamed! You must always be ready to give your life in the name of justice! My son died so that he could be glorious in the eyes of his people.......  
_  
No grandmother, he died because he made an error in judgment..........he picked the wrong adversary.............he was too blinded by hatred to see the real traitors........the ones that killed my brother..........  
  
_ Would you rather turn back and be tortured by those bastards who wear _your crown......_After we came all this way........_...._I know your mother has more pride than that................She's not weak like you are......... One would never guess that you were my granddaughter...........Your father must be rolling in his grave...........Not that Khaeri isn't positively shameful himself.............I always knew he was a good for nothing..... takes after his mother, no doubt........... I don't know why I ever allowed her to _poison_ our bloodlines.   
  
There were few times in her eighteen years that Riaquni had seen her mother angry. She was a n outgoing, mild-mannered person, and kept her rage out of public view. She brushed off most insults as if they were dust............ but this time, her grandmother had gone too far. Not only had she insulted her daughter, but her dearest friend and favorite nephew as well.  
  
I beg to differ ,_Attikai_ She addressed her mother-in law by her first name, ignoring the laws of etiquette that she had so dutifully obeyed since the day of her marriage.   
  
You have no right to insult my family, nor your son's. There is no shame in living............. the only people that embrace death are too scared to face life............. And you_ are scared ._ You are a _coward , _Attikai............ You can't take the truth............ Your whole world blew to pieces and you couldn't do anything about it........ So you tried to satisfy your own thirst for blood..........And what's worse is that I followed you, like a blind dog. My daughter has more courage than you'll ever have........ She won't let herself fall victim to your treachery...............  
  
It was incredible. Riaquni gazed at her mother in admiration as she forced her grandmother to accept the truth.  
  
It takes an even greater woman to admit her mistakes....... You can't admit that you were wrong..........You won't be undermined by your son's wife. Jinna would have done anything to be accepted by you............ She respected you more than your own sons did............and you hated her. You hated her until the very end. And you hate me. Go ahead, throw your life away................because if you ever speak another word against Jinna again, _I will kill you myself!_............  
  
Riaquni's grandmother stepped back, her anger replaced by awe and fear. She had never heard Dania speak with such conviction............such passion............and such _truthfulness. _For the first time, she realized that she was afraid. ............afraid to live.........  
  
_There is no shame in living............. the only people that embrace death are too scared to face life............. And you are scared . You are a coward ,Attikai............ You can't take the truth...........  
  
_ The words echoed, piercing her soul with a flood of remorse. Had Jinna really loved her? ..........She had never cared much for the girl..............and now she was dead............. All those times she had scorned her..........and never apologized, never asked forgiveness.........It was too late now, _or was it?.........  
  
_ You can stay here and freeze for all I care.......... Dania said coldly. I will no longer have anything to do with you............ May the ruler of Hell have mercy on you, Attikai.............  
  
Dania turned on her heels and continued up the snow -covered hill, Riaquni in tow, head held high. She had finally defeated her mother-in-law .............She had found the strength to simply walk away, leaving Attikai behind. That, she thought, was a greater victory than any physical battle could offer.  
  
Riaquni couldn't help but look back, just for a moment , at the woman she had once thought was the most beautiful in the universe. She still had the same glittering slate-blue eyes, the same burgundy-violet hair that fell in long, smooth panels down her back. She still had the same tall, willowy frame and flawless ,alabaster skin. Among the snow-laced gusts of wind and mountains of white, she appeared to be no less unearthly than she had always been. She was the shining goddess that had floated far above them all............gorgeous, loved, and envied........ But there was something missing.......... without it ,she was only a shadow of the woman she had once been.  
  
Now she was alone, stranded............The only family she had left had turned on her............ Her still -radiant beauty could never hide the sorrow that tortured her with every step she took..........Attikai was lost............ She dealt with the circumstances in the only way she knew how.........._ with a battle_.......  
  
Riaquni turned to face her grandmother, retracing her own footprints in the snow. She extended a hand to the dejected woman who had wronged her so. _Everyone deserved a second chance.   
_  
Attikai stared at her for a long moment. Without a word, she placed her hand in Riaquni's.   
  
_She's so much like her father...........I can almost see Frieza staring straight back at me through her eyes.........  
  
_Together, they walked back across the frozen landscape, to Dania's perch atop the snowy peak. Honor was a great virtue, but forgiveness was the most prized of all............_  
_   
Above the blazing lights of Shimura Street and the traffic below, a lonely figure sat on the roof of a restaurant, scrutinizing the midnight skyline. Kiniro was relieved to abandon his duties in the sweltering heat of the kitchen. The frigid winter air stung his cheeks and refreshed his spirits as his thoughts drifted into the night sky.  
  
The moon was covered in a thick veil of smog, and the stars were barely visible, blotted out by the fluorescent lights of the city. The towers from the Sugihana Airport ,a short distance across the bay, glowed a fierce neon red as airplanes soared into the night. Cars zoomed down the avenue in an attempt to keep up with the pace of the fast-moving city, a flash of red on the right, a flash of white on the left. So much light.......... but none of it was _real_.  
  
He searched above the tall skyscrapers for a glimpse of natural beauty, but it was nowhere to be found.........  
  
_Not in this city........  
  
_Perhaps the heavens had heard his call, for as he searched the sky, the world below held still for a moment. As he was about to look away, a flash of white illuminated the mottled sky. _A shooting star_........ _  
_  
Kiniro stared in wonder as it faded into the horizon. He thought himself too old to believe in silly superstitions, but this time he could not help himself. He thought long and hard...........What did he want, more than anything else?   
  
_I wish............ I wish I knew where I came from......Who my parents were.........Who I really am........  
  
_ He laughed aloud, shaking his head. Destiny had better things to think about than aspiring chefs with rhetorical questions. Kiniro shut the trapdoor leading to the roof and ducked back into the kitchen. There was too much to do in too little time........... no room for pointless dreams.  
  
Author's note: This chapter goes out to my dear friend ,Kusatori ........may you someday write a story yourself that is a thousand times better than mine. Also, a round of applause for my Mother...........for not breaking into my files and reading this...........  
  
Two huge thumbs down to Xing........... I had to download the new version of Netscape for the site to work! (well, there went my whole Saturday!) And three thumbs down( if at all possible) to the guy who installed our cable modem........ It put me back about five days in finishing this chapter.  
  
Once again, I will ever-so sweetly beg anyone who has read this to write a review. My hits to review ratio Is one to a high, three digit number. Are you all just so in awe of me, that words cannot express your praise.............Or am I just confusing you all with my plot line.? If so, let me know. I'll be happy to e- mail you a personalized guide to reading One Of The Enemy. (No really, I'm serious) I DONT TYPE TWO THOUSAND WORD CHAPTERS ONLY TO BE IGNORED!  
  
Oh, and thank you Matches, for writing something nice about my story in the posts^_^.........That brought me a whole ton of hits. I have yet to finish reading all of your stuff..........but, so far, I'm loving it!   
Sayonara For Now,  
Murasaki  



	6. One of the Enemy:Tears of a Shattered So...

Chap6

Disclaimer: All of the characters of DBZ belong to their creator. Personally, I think I have a better plot than he did, so I don't know why I'm giving him credit.............::Gets dragged away by Chibi Akira Toriyama and the cast of DBZ:: No.......I swear.....I didn't intentionally screw up your plot... It just happened........It's all lies!:: Vegeta hits Murasaki on the head with a beer bottle:: ::...silence...::  
  
Muri-Chan's Two cents: Readers, get ready.....This is angst so thick, you could cut it with a knife.....This chapter, we explore Koola's inner struggles .........Yes, in this fic, he is neither a bully nor a psycho........ ((Even I wonder where these ideas originate))...See if your opinion of him changes after this.......(there's just not enough Koola fics out there......just Frieza.......I wonder why...)^_^  
Oh yeah........you might want to reread chapter two before this one......Just a hint that will make things easier.  
  
  
::One Of The Enemy::  
A story by Murasaki Iiro  
Chapter Six:Tears Of A Shattered Soul  
  
Feelings of deplorable self-pity and uncertainty washed over Koola as he stared absentmindedly into the mirror built into the corridor leading from the engine room. It was not a grand construction, as were the ingeniously carved ones in the houses of nobles; nor a delicate one , like the porcelain-bordered hand mirror his mother had managed to save from repeated catastrophes . It was rather crude, simply metal and glass nailed to the wall at an irregular angle; an object strictly of purpose rather than of beauty........primitive yet eerily inviting.  
  
Perhaps, long ago, when this ship had been new, reckless young soldiers had checked their dreary early morning appearances there before scrambling to report to their commanding officers. He could almost hear the delicate sandaled footsteps of a general's daughter as she examined her complexion, searching for the slightest imperfection, as young girls often did. He could almost see the rambunctious serving boys of decades ago poking fun at their superiors by imitating their expressions and outlandish accents............ Their living caricatures reflected mockingly back at them, providing many hours of giggles and fiendish glee. Thousands and thousands of people must have stopped to study themselves in this smudged surface.........  
  
_Ah, so many memories a mirror must hold, does it not?......It has seen so many faces, this mirror....... the beautiful, the vain, the proud, the pure, the comical, the traitorous, the mysterious, the fortunate...............the broken, the hopeless, the empty, the desolate.........and mine.....  
  
_He scrutinized his profile carefully. It was by no means unique.........he had the same squared chin and straight nose as half the men he knew.......... Untamed silver hair that had belonged, in turn, to his father, his grandfather, and two of his sons...........Grey-black pools for eyes that were filled with mystery, ironically reminiscent of his foes' dark Seiyan glares....... not a noteworthy face, perhaps a little rough along the edges, but still gentle, as always.........  
  
Sweet, beautiful Jinna had always loved that face.........no matter if it was streaked with grime from the battlefield or so intricately painted with thin lines and points of black pigment , as was customary for nobility on a sacred day. She had never once told him he was corrupt, even though he was often forced to do terrible things that he was greatly ashamed of. He always had the utmost affection for her, and she for him.........Often she was the one ray of hope in the confusion that surrounded him...... the turmoils of war twisting and contorting his soul until he knew not who to blame or what to fight for.........only she remained , the one pure thing left in the hideous and terrifying chaos that had become his reality.........  
  
He gazed into the face in the mirror again. It was not only a fusion of features, but burning with emotions.......... The eyes were full of fear and agony, fighting to break free from the mind that had struggled to imprison them for so long.........He was afraid.....afraid to leave his people in the hands of a madwoman......afraid to face Goku.......afraid to walk through life alone.........  
  
Tears slowly ran down his cheeks, stinging his face.......He made no effort to stop, for there was nothing left to hold on to......... Just a thread of a hope that his enemies would accept his plea. But a thread could never save a man falling into a chasm of despair........It would snap in two and pull him to the depths of Hell from which he could never return......  
  
_Jinna.......tell me........What should I do?........I can't go on like this.........I'm lost, Jinna.......  
  
_That face........He hated that face now.........He hated it because the man behind it was so empty, so alone.......That face had smiled a thousand smiles and laughed a thousand laughs, but never would again. Koola wished with all his might that he were dead, for the world was dead to him, and he was nothing without Jinna.  
  
He sank to the floor, his near seven foot frame crumpled into a heap...........Nobody was here......Nobody would see him cry........He buried his face in his hands, and mourned the loss of his wife his brother, his father, his nephew , his friends, his comrades ..........all were gone, where he could not see their faces or hear their voices until he too joined them.........  
  
So seeped was he in his own pool of self-pity, that Koola did not detect the presence of another individual lurking in the doorway. The person crept toward him, on silent bare feet, approaching tentatively, half in curiosity, half in fear........Slowly, in unsure steps,the figure came nearer........  
  
A tiny, cherubic hand tugged on Koola's sleeve........, the petite red-headed girl said, barely raising her voice above a whisper.   
  
He lifted his head and his youngest daughter came into view, the spitting image of her beautiful mother. Two perfect coils of fire-colored hair sat atop her head, flawlessly formed, just as Jinna had first plaited them early that morning. Around her tiny, two and a half foot figure hung a deep blue, sleeveless, ankle-length linen dress,plain...... but typical of any small girl. The only adornment she wore was a thin gold bracelet, a meager reminder of the priceless jewelry that had once graced the slender wrists , necks, and ankles of queens before her. She had no memory of the times when her family had been powerful and prosperous. All she knew was secrecy, mourning , fear, and survival, a way of life that had been accepted by the common man from generation to generation.   
  
_She will never know her true identity, her history.........When she is grown, will she ask who her mother was?.........Will I even be there to give her the answer?..........  
  
_All was chaos, but the wayward spin of the universe stopped just then for both father and daughter........just long enough for the child to ask a question..........Three simple words from a girl not yet able to understand the significance of them.......  
  
_Xa yi Tana?............  
  
Where is Mama?......  
  
_He had no immediate answer to give, for he was taken aback by her few, but precocious words. How could he explain the concept of death to someone barely old enough to string together a sentence, if that at all?   
  
But she was there, waiting...........curious...... Koola could not lie to her. Jinna was not coming back. Not now. Not ever. All he could tell her was what he knew to be true.  
  
Your mother was never fit to walk among mortals, such as we, Jiyaisa. The Lord of Heaven cannot allow us to be rewarded by such beauty. Perhaps someday we shall come to know how a goddess fell from the heavens and into our midst...........Until then,we must treasure the trail of memories she has left behind for us, and remember her always.......  
  
By saying these words aloud, he had filled a little of the emptiness that had threatened his very being. He had to stay alive..............he had to make sacrifices..............He was no longer living for his own sake, but for Jiyaisa's............If he crashed and burned , where would she be?........Who would his children become if he was not there to remind them of their heritage?.......  
  
Bringing himself to level height with his daughter, he noticed a faint but familiar glimmer of understanding. She was young, yes, but she understood. Years ago, when he had first seen that glimmer in the eyes of a young woman, she too had made her imprint upon his soul.   
  
_So, Jinna.......... you have not really left us after all..... you left me a gift, a part of you..........the part of your shining, golden self that I loved best.........  
  
_He stood up, triumphantly, filled with new spirit. Lifting Jiyaisa onto his shoulders, he turned his back on the mirror and the lonely corridor. As the heavy door shut behind him, he locked his anguish away with them. The only thing he had now was the the sound of his daughter's laughter as she reached to touch the ceiling from her perch high above the ground. And that, he thought, was all he needed..........   
  
Across a vast and forever changing sea of space, a drunken man grimly poured himself another glass of red wine . He was sitting on an armchair in the corner of his hosts' living room, sinking further into it as the night wore on. The man no longer cared if he became inebriated, for all that had been of value to him had been lost.  
  
Only a short time ago, he had been returned from the realm of deceased warriors, waiting impatiently as his friends fought the most challenging of opponents. He watched helplessly while they suffered......... hour after painful hour. And now, after he had been so graciously restored, he was once again an outsider.  
  
He gazed longingly at a beautiful woman with vivid blue eyes, as he grudgingly swallowed another mouthful of the pleasantly tart liquid. Motherhood had rendered her even more loving and energetic than ever before. He had often imagined that the infant child she held in her arms was his own, that she was his wife, and that she loved him still. But the child was not his, and nor was she.  
  
Instead, she had so readily poured her affections upon the most arrogant and egocentric of men, one who never once gave her a word of kindness in return. She deserved better. He would have given her more............more than this rootless prince had to offer her.............more than a life where her lover refused even to call their son by name. _It. ...........That Child...........Boy........._So many times he had heard these hateful words and shuddered at them. If it had been his son, he would have been proud to have taught him the martial arts and the way of the warrior. But it was not so, and would never be.  
  
Another swallow of wine followed the first. How bitter life was when the only adventures to be had were those that were doomed to end in death. He would rather have not learned of his own demise in the near future...........perhaps it would only be months before he met his fate at the hands of two villainous machines.   
  
He watched as the minute hand on the wall clock monotonously ticked towards the first hour after midnight. How long would he be trapped with these hypocrites who celebrated a holiday that held no meaning for them?.......... Did they not consider themselves true Buddhists? Even Krillin joined the throng of merrymakers, a mere pawn in Chichi's relentless pursuit of domestic perfection.........For all of his powerful physique, Goku had succumbed to her dictatorship within their own home. He knew that Goku was as unhappy as he, but kept silent, for fear of losing one of his oldest friends. What had become of the almost brothers he had shared the highest and lowest hours of his life with? Had they left him in the dark, and continued on the road of life without him? .........  
  
That notion was almost too disturbing to bear, and he hoped that it was the wine that had given rise to such thoughts in his head.........The glass of wine disappeared as the hour hand inched by the one o'clock mark. He did not hesitate to pour another, filled to the brim.   
  
_What do I really want? .............Do I want love? Do I want honesty? Do I want an adventure?....  
  
_No, none of those. All he wanted was out. Out of this room, away from these people, far from this house of traitors , liars,and hypocrites. _Out_.............  
  
The last threads of sane thought drifted away into the howling winter wind as his eyes closed, his mind drifting into a drunken slumber.........  
  
The laws that govern our universe are funny things.........They give to some, and take from others, all in turn. Yet they always take for a reason............a reason that even the wisest of men fail to see until they have completed their own path in the complex scheme of fate...........  
  
  
More of Murasaki's two cents: So sorry it took ages to get this chapter out.......Writer's block must be contagious.......If so, then we need a vaccination............. Although, in my opinion this was my best chapter yet.......Worth the suffering, ne? The bit at the end with Yamcha, (our mystery man), was inspired by one of those all too common B/V romances.......I thought it would be exciting to dissect his psyche.........::Did anyone say ANGST!::..........So you like this or not?!?! Please, say whatever came into your head after reading it........I really don't care if you think its vile, but use _constructive criticism_...... please! ((although nobody has hated it so far, so I'm optimistic about the future of this fic)).......  
  
Sayonara........for now,  
Murasaki  
  
By the way------ Three cheers for Biowolf! ........I love pioneers in the field of fanfiction..........we all need a little Cell now and then........ _  
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	7. One of the Enemy: Threads of Light and D...

Chap7

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. I wish I did, but unfortunately Akira Toriyama thought of it first. This is only my humble attempt at fanfiction, nothing more.  
_  
This chapter is dedicated to all of the great authors on fanfiction.net whose wondrous talents never fail to amaze me........   
  
And to my fellow author, jacob, whose interest in this story inspired me to continue writing. Arigato.  
_  
......One of the Enemy........  
A story by Murasaki Iiro  
Chapter Seven:Threads of Light and Darkness  
  
  
Faith is a strong virtue that is present among all beings that are aware of their own purpose. It is what separates true men from beasts, the fine line that falls between us and the creatures we once were , millions of years ago. Unquestionably, it is the most fierce and varied of all mortal emotions, the root of all other virtues.   
  
Faith in another being gives rise to love and friendship. Faith in a promise gives rise to trust and loyalty.Faith in a power greater than oneself gives rise to piety and morality. Faith in your own ability to ascend gives rise to confidence and ambition. Faith is many things, all different, yet tied together by a chain of impossible dreams, prayers, and determination.   
  
Yet, there are many individuals to whom fate has chosen to bestow with its most cruel and unusual punishments. Faith, to them, is a hallucination of the fortunate, pleas that are never answered, wishes that are never granted. They have lost all faith in their own ability to survive, which by far is the worst kind of faith to abandon. In groups they travel, numbers dwindling quickly, waiting.........waiting for the inevitable. The powers that command luck and goodness have long forgotten them. They wander from one treachery to the next........wondering when it will all end........For them,happiness is only a dream of the past.   
  
Imagine each person in each of these populations as threads in a coarse black linen shawl. If you take apart these threads one by one, you will find that some threads are lighter then others. A few are pale grey, some a deep silver tone. You may dismember thousands upon thousands of shawls before you find the ultimate anomaly...........a pure white thread, nearly buried among the dark ones.   
  
This single white thread is the one pure person who has_ not_ abandoned his faith. He waits, not for death, but for a glimpse of light to follow off the path of doom. It is this one individual , this one white thread, that spreads its light and strength to the others without their conscious knowledge. All they know is that there is something there.........something pushing them away from the darkness, and into the light from which they came.   
  
_Without the white thread holding the weave together, the other threads will surely unravel and the fabric fray..........  
_  
Underneath the constant roar of the engines, in a solitary ,empty chamber, which reeked faintly of mildew, a figure sat, kneeling before several wax candles. A protruding ledge had been adorned with various objects, a simple shrine unknown to the others. It was here that Sasdan , the second son of the crown prince, practiced the deepest and clandestine meditations of his heart and memory. He was one of the proud few who still put his trust in higher powers............ perhaps, to his knowledge, he was the only one left living......  
  
A hundred years before, such shrines were commonplace, a space in which to honor the dead and bless the living. When other cultures from worlds far from their own forced their influences upon his people, they buried their sacred things for fear of being accused of remaining a backward race. But they always knew that they must hold fast to some of the old ways. Those ancient beliefs were the only way that they could keep from becoming barbarians themselves.   
  
The signs of old superstitions were sprinkled between heavy machinery and factory walls, in the homes, and on the streets............In the corners of the doorways, thin ,square leaves of orange paper were pressed into the fresh paint , lest a sandstorm tear the house from its foundation................On the sides of buildings, in alleyways, was carefully written the identity of the owner, lest intruders come thieving in the night...........A stone bead with one's name was worn on a string when on a voyage....... For if you wandered far from home, evil entities would not mistake you for another, and snuff out your life a hundred billion miles from home .  
  
These simple things had captured the faith of an entire race for thousands of years..........until now. Houses burned to the ground like kindling..........Entire cities were destroyed in a day.........innocent people wasted away, cramped in heavily guarded prisons packed to twenty times their capacity...........  
  
_How can they put their trust in a piece of paper or stone to save their souls.........? What they are living in those tiny lurid cells is far, far worse than any kind of hell............ I wish they could see that it is not the object itself that can preserve them, it is their own faith in its power that will give them the strength to endure.............That is what saved me.............I am still here because of it.............  
  
_His fingers ran along the surface of a sandstone figurine. It was in the image of a tall, powerful man,standing rigidly upright. Like the other figures near to it, it had no face, for the person it represented no longer walked this world. Just like the face they had loved so well, his soul was gone too, forever begging forgiveness for his unforgivable sins .   
  
On a foreign world, he had died, so consumed with a dangerous force that grew so large it murdered his spirit, his mind, and last of all, his heart. Even after he had perished, his body continued to live without a soul, and it was bent and contorted like that of a demon.   
  
_Power is a dangerous thing......men die for it every single day.......how would he have known that the fiend lurking within him...... that gave him such incredible strength...... would be his undoing.......and everyone else's?  
  
_ His own father, his uncle, and his grandfather had tampered with forces they could not control. Only his father had survived. Because of this, and its consequences, Sasdan would never allow himself to to fight again. _Never_.  
  
_When you left that evening on your final journey, did you wear your talisman like my father warned you to? You laughed, Frieza..............then you gave it to me, for safekeeping.........That one mistake cost you your life.............Now where has your soul gone?  
  
_ He looped the bead, upon its string, around the stone body.  
  
_Wherever you may be, Uncle, may all that is good still protect you........._  
_  
_At the next figurine, he smiled sadly.   
  
_Grandfather...........You once told me that when you put your mind to something, the impossible becomes possible............ Sometimes I wish, and wish , and wish that you would return to us and deliver your people from this nightmare...........but when I wake up the next morning, you are still gone......the impossible is still impossible............but every day, I keep praying, all the same.............  
_   
The third figurine was half the size of the others. His death was not his own doing, and so, was the hardest to bear.  
  
_You were out by the river that evening................watching the sunset, as you always did, wiggling your toes in the cool water.........I can almost feel your shock and your fear as you turned around to see the face of your attacker...........It happened so cleanly and so quickly............Nobody was there to hear you scream............  
  
Did they choose you to be their victim, cousin? Or was it fate that you would be in the wrong place at that moment............If I had been there, would it have been me instead?........  
  
_Tears began to mingle with the dripping wax of the candles. Soon his own mother would take her place among the others, a cold, faceless figure..........And he was running............ running from a world of men, women,and children who had all become faceless statues.   
  
_And where must I go, now that I have decided to flee? .............  
  
_One by one, he blew the candles out, throwing the room into a thick darkness.   
_  
Roads are for journeys, not for destinations...............  
  
_Sasdan's fingers skillfully knotted a leather cord around his neck. Hanging from it was a small, black stone, not unlike the one that had belonged to his uncle. So many lives had already been wasted........hopeless survivors, nameless bodies.....he would not allow his own to become one of them.   
  
When they landed, he knew not whether he would face instantaneous death, or the opportunity he was looking for. One way, or another ,he was prepared to take the risk, as all brave men should be.......... but not without faith_............never without faith............  
_  
Sasdan rose from the floor, and began to slide open the door to his makeshift sanctuary. As light began to flood the room, he stopped and touched the engraving on the face of his talisman.   
  
His fingers read the two complex glyphs, as they had done thousands of times before.  
_   
Sasdan Adenkhi............  
  
_ A rather odd name, especially belonging to one of royal blood.  
  
It meant simply this:  
  
_White Thread.  
  
_No other name could have been more perfect._  
  
_However vital the white thread is to the unity of the entire weave, one must recall that in this world , _balance _between the light and dark must be obtained . This applies to all things......heaven and hell......day and night......one cannot exist without the other. _It is fact. It is law . It is truth._  
  
And so, logic implies that there must be a second thread that is as polluted as the other is pure........  
  
_A thread of darkest black......._  
  
The only sound Falyni could hear was the rapid, terrified beating of her own heart, like a thousand soldiers marching across a wooden bridge. She pulled her knees to her chin, and wrapped her arms around her long, lean frame. She trembled violently , as if from some imaginary cold. She did not cry, but her eyes were staring blankly into the darkness, the look of a startled animal in the night. She said nothing aloud, but only moved her lips in the shape of words, as if speaking to herself.  
  
_......I can't keep running any longer.........I'm tired, can't you see that?.........I'm tired of hiding , tired of lying, tired of living this life......... This madness, this slaughter...........It's tearing me into pieces....... It's a horrible dream from which I can never awaken..........  
_  
Although she tried to hide from the scenes flashing inside her head, they were always there, a permanent brand upon her mind.........replaying themselves over and over, growing in clarity and intensity as life wore on. Every minute of every day , she fought to keep them at bay. Now, It was becoming more and more difficult to suppress them.   
  
Always, she had driven them off with words....... lying words.......sarcastic words.........But the power of hollow laughter seemed to grow weaker as the pictures grew more vivid. It became so painful to smile for others, so painful that it began to take hold of her body as well........She could go days without sleep, until her mind gave out just long enough to rest for a few hours. Her bones were forever aching. Her face became drawn and gaunt. Her lovely eyes that had once been a lively and clear as the river in daylight seemed sunken and dull. Her long, reddish-gold hair had lost its lively shimmer. Every quality that had made her so attractive as a little girl were faded miserably, the long-term effects of mourning, deprivation, fear and inhumanity.   
  
Few people understood the magnitude of her emotions, or tried to, in any case, because they were far too preoccupied with their own survival. When she could find the nerve to speak of it, there was nobody willing to listen. Falyni was one of many sisters and brothers, and she was so hopelessly alone.  
_  
Mother, when you saw me cry, you put your arms around me and told me to be strong...........but you never told me how to be like you were...........You never told me the secret to your strength. .......... But you are silenced now...........and I will never know........  
  
_Finding a sanctuary was impossible for Falyni, for the enemy she was hiding from lived inside of her. She could bury herself alive in the sand, and still, the images would not cease to haunt her. There was nowhere she could feel safe, protected or liberated. Only darkness could offer momentary comfort. Black and thick, it blinded and calmed her just long enough steal her sanity back from the greedy fingers of panic.   
  
This time, darkness had little effect upon her state, and she struggled madly to change the direction of her thoughts. Almost in agony, she grimaced, trying to erase the horrible, familiar scene that had begun to develop before her eyes.   
  
_Anything but this.........How many times must I relive what happened three years ago?.........Why can't I forget?.........Once was not enough?..........  
  
_ Trembling, she gave in .There was no use fighting it. Again and again she would lose pitifully, and she would become victim to her own terror once more........  
  
_Life had been teetering on the edge of disaster for a long while.......But it was on that night they pushed us over........It was on that night that I learned how real and final death was, and how close I had come to it.........  
  
_Shoeless feet ran frantically down a long, dimly lit passage. Falyni recognized the sound of her own short, terrified breaths cutting through the silence. She continued aimlessly towards the end of a hall that seemed menacingly infinite . The maze of corridors in her luxurious home had always seemed friendly and inviting, but on this night it was a twisted labyrinth, unfamiliar and endless.  
  
A scream echoed shrilly, not far behind her. She was afraid to turn back and identify who had originated it, for fear she would be seen. Distraught, she searched for an open door, some place to hide herself. Fatigued, she paused for a moment to catch her breath. The floor seemed to shake as the rumbling of hundreds of marching feet closed in on their prey.   
  
She backed against a locked doorway, fruitlessly begging it to open. The sound of the marching grew louder, echoing through the walls, as she slammed her fist against it. It was no use. Frightened and frustrated, Falyni threw herself at the door. She heard the glorious sound of iron snapping in two as it flew open, offering her safety . Quickly, she dived behind the door and bolted it shut.   
  
_Then, I believed that some kind god had spared me.......but I had only traded one catastrophe for another.............  
  
_ She sunk against the wall, and released a sigh of triumph. She had survived, for the moment. Nobody would look for her here.  
  
More at ease with her victory, she examined her surroundings with mounting curiosity. The moonlight filtered through the sealed glass windows, filling the room with a pale glow. The room itself was spacious, and apparently vacant. Yet, there was an unsettling quality about it.   
  
The nights were frequently hot and dry during that season, but in that room, it became unbearably so. The air seemed thick and heavy as she breathed, and her eyes were beginning to be overcome with an unnatural burning sensation. Falyni made an attempt to move towards the window, but her legs gave out from under her, throwing her onto the floor.  
  
_It was then that I realized why all of the doors and windows were sealed................  
  
_Her vision failing her, she groped for something to help steady herself. Finally her fingers touched something...........someone_._......a hand......_._limp, cold.........._dead  
_  
She pulled her own hand away , horrified. If she didn't find a way out within minutes, she would die from the gas. But what lay on the other side of the door would also be certain doom. Falyni was trapped.   
  
_Death on both sides of the door...........  
  
_Her head throbbed mercilessly as her fingertips became numb. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she was unable to wipe them away. She gasped for air, choking as she suffocated slowly.   
  
_If my life had ended that night, I would have been spared the things I would live to see in the years to come..............I almost regret that the gas never had a chance to finish its work............  
  
_She could no longer see, breathe, or move. Defeated, she stopped struggling. The numbness had overtaken her now. She closed her sightless eyes, and sadly waited for her heart to cease its frail beating.   
  
._......But they would not let me die..........  
  
_As the darkness enveloped her, her dulled hearing was awakened by the sharp sound of shattering glass.   
  
_ Falyni?.........Falyni.........Please be alive............   
  
_Oxygen filled her lungs as she surrendered to living.....torn from death's grip, but by no means rescued............  
  
._.....The suffering of that night, and everything that followed remains with me........... It will consume me until there is nothing left of me to take away...........  
_  
Falyni opened her eyes, temporarily released from her prison of memories. Slowly, but surely, her heartbeat slowed, her joints unlocked, and her violent trembling ebbed . She took deep swallows of air, trying to ward off the lingering feeling of asphyxiation. She wiped the bitter tears welling in her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
Still shaken, she braced herself against the wall and pushed open the closet door from the inside. Falyni stumbled into the light. The worst was over .   
  
Dejectedly, she collapsed onto an empty wooden crate, trying to gather her senses.   
  
_If heaven were so merciful, why does it not put an end to my pain?............  
  
_Now that the terror had dimmed, anger filled her heart.   
  
_How can they all just turn away?..........They see headless corpses, houses burned to the ground.............. mothers without children, children without mothers..........families murdered as they sleep.......... They live all of these things as I do.........Yet they do nothing but ask for help from something that surely cannot and does not exist! .......  
_  
In a rash act of defiance, she tore at a stone amulet fastened around her pale neck. Savagely, she threw it against the wall with incredible force, causing it to shatter as it fell.   
  
_As if a piece of stone could save me now..............So be it if I die without a name............So many others have, one more will make no difference........  
  
_She examined the results of her outburst. The wall was dented , and the smooth stone bead had been reduced to uneven fragments. She knew she should have felt a sense of fulfillment and pride when she saw the talisman destroyed, for it represented falsehood and ignorance.   
  
Instead, she was filled with shame. It had been a gift from her grandfather, a stubborn, but kind man who loved not only her family, but all of his people. Falyni knew that she had nothing left to give to those that suffered ....not even a few words of hope. Her heart was barren of happiness and generosity.Yet somehow, the dying princess within her ached to remember someone who she admired and who adored her.........someone who had once brought her joy and courage........_someone who would have sacrificed anything to put an end to her pain.......  
  
_ Without knowing why, she began to pick up the pieces from the floor. It could never be whole again, but what remained might be salvaged and repaired. Some of the larger fragments aligned to one another, allowing the tiny inscription to be read.   
  
The surface was chipped badly, but Falyni never failed to recognize her own name.   
  
Others had meaningful names, representing the splendor of nature , fortune, heroism, or beauty.  
  
But her name, whether spoken, written, or read meant nothing to her.   
  
Fourteen years ago, her grandfather had bestowed upon her the name of his choice. So similar was it to her older brother's , that it had been met with some hesitant criticism. But still, fourteen years later, it remained unchanged.  
  
It was not a lucky name. It evoked no visions of grandeur or glory. It was never the title of a great queen.   
  
But it was an honest name, despite what she herself believed.  
  
_Falyni Adenkhi.  
  
Black Thread.  
  
_It was also a curse in disguise.   
  
Such strong opposing forces are light and darkness, faith and distrust, courage and fear. How is it that two such souls can coexist so near to one another?   
  
It cannot be forgotten that both the pure black and pure white threads were spun of the same fibers. They have the same solid core, although one has chosen to let it fill with torment, the other to draw it out. But when they look beyond the attributes that make them so incongruous, they know that their heritage is shared . Beneath the extremities of their attitudes towards life, the hot desert winds and the red clay of the river delta are in their blood. They hold in their hearts what their ancestors have endured, and what they themselves fight to survive.   
  
_So different, yet in many ways the same........._.  
  
It is their sense of belonging, their identity, that spins dark and light together .........Pride and loyalty make thousands of weak strands strong and stubborn; able to withstand water, wind and fire.  
  
What becomes of the lone thread that has been pulled from the cloth, and discarded without thought?   
  
It may have been so fortunate to break its fall on the sleeve of the next woman at the market , or the heavy cloak of a soldier hurrying homeward to arrive prudently for his evening meal.   
  
_But on foreign cloth of a different fiber?.........a different pattern?........a different hue?........  
_  
As it makes an attempt to incorporate itself into an inhospitable environment, it loses the power it had beside its brothers. Under and over it weaves itself, between these strangers............Soon it is tightly enclosed within walls dyed in garish red. But still it is the dark streak among bright colors.........  
  
The outsider always knows, deep down, that he is different......... He cannot place his finger on exactly what separates himself from all of the others.........But he is sure, so sure, that he does not belong........  
  
_And so, everywhere he goes, he searches for himself.........The family he loves but cannot remember........The pain others suffer that he has never felt...........The strength he has, but can no longer use........ The identity that he lost, but would be nearly impossible to reclaim........  
_  
Kiniro was perched on a red-lacquered stool by the swinging doors in the kitchen. He had been hard at work for six long hours, mechanically rolling _sushi ,_ frying fish , and steaming bean curd , slave to the whim of the increasingly inebriated customers. Ten whole kegs full of the finest _sake _ had come and gone by the stroke of midnight. The fifteen gargantuan sacks of white rice he had carried out from storage in preparation were dwindling pitifully.  
  
Even his own morale was clearly diminished. His eyes ached from watching oil spit and boil in the pan, his nimble fingers burned from all of the times he'd been careless with the knife, and his legs were becoming stiff from standing upright for hours on end. How long could he rest before someone issued another dreaded order?  
  
_Tell me, will this night that so earnestly tests my patience ever come to an end?  
_  
On this night, across the eastern hemisphere, every man, woman and child were subject to the joy of the holiday, whether it was an active part of their faith, or a simply a generic festivity. Soirees and dinner parties included the elite of the salarymen and diplomats in North City's aesthetic uptown area. Such affairs often included highly adorned meals and tastes of international cuisine. The spread of festive spirits seemed to be a pandemic, with food and rice wine for all who joined the ostentatious celebration.  
  
_Except when you're the guy behind the swinging doors, in some torrid kitchen.......shelling out a real living at night so that you can finish school like the other boys in your classes----- who never worked an honest day in their lives......so you can pay the rent on that tiny hole of an apartment that keeps rising mercilessly every month..........so you can buy new shoes for yourself so that you can walk to the restaurant in this wretched winter weather............So that you can say that you can stand on your own, at the tender age of sixteen......  
  
But most of all ,so you can learn at the feet of an old master .......in hope that someday your dream will become reality........  
  
_He rubbed his sore fingers almost furiously.   
  
_And so I learned that freedom can never truly be won without a struggle......and a little faith ......  
_  
On the fourth day of January, his sixteenth birthday, he had been released from the care of the city, optimistic and so full of ambition. He was then old enough to leave school, get his working papers, and support himself. Kiniro could barely describe his joy at the moment when the doors swung open, his freedom calling to him from the crowded streets, waving from the gleaming tops of the skyscrapers, singing in the winter wind that darted between the buildings.......  
  
_But then I realized that I had nowhere to go, no employer that would hire an inexperienced boy, and on top of it all, an education to pay for..............and although I could have sacrificed the latter, I knew that my distant future would have no promise if compromised my schooling for a career. I had to find a steady job that I could work at night..........and fast........  
  
_Subconsciously, he began to twist a stray lock of hair around his finger, a habit that only seemed to emerge when he was in a state of deep thought. _  
  
I was not free. I was only a servant to my own needs rather than someone else's. I never had meals presented to me on a silver platter, but I soon felt the sting of not having one at all.......  
  
_Then he saw it. _  
_   
In the window of a respectable restaurant....... written in large, nearly illegible scrawl......  
  
_Assistant chef for night shift wanted. Good wages, hours negotiable. Basic culinary skills required. No restaurant experience necessary.   
  
Perfect.  
_  
The opportunity had finally arrived.  
  
Someone must have been watching over him that night.   
  
He thanked each of the Shinto deities under his breath, one by one, not wanting to exclude any, most of all, his unknown savior.  
  
When he looked up, his sign was still there, beckoning him inside.   
  
The door was slightly ajar. The sound of glasses clinking, people laughing, and the methodical tapping of a nervous chopstick poured through the crack in the door.   
  
_Then I knew that my fortune was real.........and that this was someplace that I might finally belong.  
  
_He pushed open the door and stepped inside, with confidence.   
  
_That night, I became something more than just a lonely boy without a past.   
  
The beginning of my new life as Fubuki Kiniro, assistant chef, began at that moment.  
  
I was finally my own person.   
  
The very first step towards finding myself and my place in life.  
  
_ It had been almost a year since he had aimlessly paced the streets, looking for a single stroke of luck. So blessed was he to have a forgiving, tolerant teacher, who gave him the knowledge he needed to chase his swift-flying dreams.   
  
At times, it was almost like having a father...........  
  
_But who was my father?   
  
_His_ sensei_ flew back and forth across the kitchen, scolding the frost-bitten delivery boys for their tardiness.   
  
Kiniro tried to bring back the memory of a man who had guided him through his first eight years.  
  
_Just like Kanbokuda-san guides me now......._   
  
But, as always, there was nothing. No face, no body, not even a voice would resurface .   
  
It was as if he had never had a father at all.   
  
_I cannot remember my father, but I ache to see him just once more. Even if he were to stay only a minute in my consciousness, I would have time enough to tell him one thing...........  
  
_ Kiniro pushed the stool back into the corner and sprung to his feet with an energetic flourish.  
  
_I still love him . _  
  
_Just that one small thing would be enough.  
  
_He had struggled for so long to become what he was. But Kiniro could not stop there. He knew that the answers he was looking for were not hidden in this bustling, humid kitchen, in fifteen sacks of rice, or a thousand cups of _sake_.  
  
They were somewhere else.  
  
And somewhere else wasnowhere at all.  
  
_They are always out of reach...........so many journeys away .............and yet ,they are only the distance across a buried memory..........  
  
_   
_Murasaki's Two cents_: I'm back. Yes, it took me this long to write something this philosophical. _(And many cans of Coca- cola, the carbonated, caffinated soft drink.....just the thing to keep me awake to type all of this)._A whole lot of thought and precious hours I could have spent sleeping went into this chapter, and I'm rather proud of myself for having the discipline to pull it off.   
  
I hope that you all enjoyed the four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-five words in chapter seven as much as I enjoyed putting them together. There are many messages and themes in this chapter, so I am adding to the reader's guide(free, if you e-mail me or ask for one in your review) another new section that gives a bit more insight into the characters and conflicts. It should be available in a week because I need to finish reading Genome, by Matt Ridley before I take off for Europe. (Not that I enjoy it, but my science teacher will have my head on a plate if I can't finish by next year...::sets fire to book::....He's the sort of guy we d _all_ like to Kamehameha into another dimension...^_^)_  
  
_Until next time,  
Murasaki_   
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